Medea the Sorceress

The Archaeology of Movies and Books #1

by Diane Wakoski

A sustained meditation on personal past and the secret nature of reality, this multi-volume work unearths a wealth of hidden meanings from the first-person-historical dimensions recording a Southern California girlhood, moves to Berkeley, Nevada and Michigan, and the chain of great expectations developed along the way--built out of Hollywood movie dreams ("imagining our lives, instead of living them") and inevitably shattered by disappointing and betraying real-life relationships. The bittersweet and ironic evocations of the failed loves of her life make this among the most moving as well as revealing of Wakoski's books.

Genres: Poetry, Fiction

200 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1990

About the author

Wakoski is an American poet who is primarily associated with the deep image poets such as Jerome Rothenberg, Robert Kelly, and Clayton Eshleman. Throughout her work she uses legends, myth and fairy tales to create a deeply personal mythology.

She is best known for a series of poems collectively known as "The Motorcycle Betrayal Poems."

Wakoski was given the William Carlos Williams Award for her "Emerald Ice: Selected Poetry 1962-1987."

Reviews

[Margaryta · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was beginning to think I'd never read this book because I could not find it anywhere. I happened upon it in a used bookstore in Boston and took it as a sign that after all these years, the universe still wants me to read it.

Medea the Sorceress was different from what I imagined it would be. Mainly, it was less literal and linear in its relationship to the myth. I'd never read Wakoski before, which I assume is because I never formally studied the history of American poetry. The format, which alternated between letters written in box-like shapes and poems, reminded me a bit of Alice Notley's work, which also has a distinct formatting. There were sections of Medea the Sorceress that really sucked me in. This is especially true when Wakoski would not finish the "letter" portion but instead cut it off and put a poem in between the two portions of the letter. At times, the poem was even the one she mentions in the letter, sometimes even using words from the letter in question. There's an autobiographical tone to this collection which, whether real or not, is still very enjoyable and adds an additional layer for contemplation and enjoyment.

I think that for present-day readers it's worth noting that Wakoski's book feels very much like a product of its time (the 1990s) and is a little outdated with some of its language or outlook. I didn't agree with some of her descriptions of feminism or how she sometimes seemed to contradict herself when talking about wanting to be free but also desired. One of the most telling portions was when Wakoski's speaker says that she believes a woman's worth is for her to be desired by a man, or something along those lines. The biggest "sin" of Medea the Sorceress is probably that there are a few fatphobic lines sprinkled here and there and one explicitly fatphobic poem titled "Neighbourhood Light" near the end. I was able to make a note of this in my mind and keep reading. It did not hinder my enjoyment of the rest of the collection, which I think it is fair to say is good despite this couple of faults. Others might find more objection to this, so I believe it is worth mentioning, as it should be in all instances with reading older literary works, whether they were published 30 years ago or 200.

[Coles · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Medea" is an interesting read, likely best-suited for people who are already familiar with and fans of Wakoski's previous work. The letters addressed to Jonathan (Carroll, I believe) and Craig (Cotter) are beautifully poetic in their own right, and the glimpse that they give the reader into the thought process behind the subsequent poems feels really special. Somewhat unfortunately, many of the poems and letters haven't aged particularly well, if not for one bizarre reason, through no fault of her own. There is a LOT of talk of Tom Cruise. A lot. Overall, though, a great read that I was in no rush to put down.

[J.C. Reilly · Rating 3 out of 5]

I liked the obvious humor in several of the poems, but I thought she was less focused overall than she was in Jason the Sailor...but perhaps since Medea the Sorceress came out first, she hadn’t yet figured out what her overall focus was going to be? Also, there seem to be more letters in this book than in Jason, and while lots of them are very interesting, sometimes they just seem to rehash the same old stuff. I tend to think that, were I Jonathan or Craig (the two men she writes to), I might tell her to get a new schtick. But I still liked it, and am very interested in Wakoski as a poet.

[Katherine R · Rating 3 out of 5]

I've never read a story told through letters and poetry but it was a story. It was all images and small things that spoke of connections to bigger things so that the story sort of nebulously forms as the whole picture is filled in as you read. Interesting mix, some of which was too hetero-normative for me but the juxtaposition of Diane to Medea, as she finds herself identifying is a fascinating one.

[Sky Daye · Rating 5 out of 5]

Diane has quickly become one of my new favorite poets! She feels inventive and true to herself. As if she herself is just spilling onto the pages really.

[Parker Logan · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a very interesting epistolary poetry book. The poems all worked well by themselves, but they were highlighted even more when they were put together in this collection.

[Glen Engel-Cox · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’m not someone who normally buys poetry collections, although I do like poetry, and have several collections on my shelves (including a complete works of ee cummings that I’m still working my way through and a battered hardback of the complete poetry of T.S. Eliot). So why did I pick up this collection by Wakoski? A correspondent turned me onto this passage:

“My model is your double world reality in Sleeping In Flame, which people can conveniently interpret as the physical and the psychological if they wish to ignore magic.”

She is, indeed, referring to the novel by Jonathan Carroll, and this collection is full of a strange interpretation influenced by and predicated on Carroll’s novels. Like the best poetry, it is so much more, as well.

The structure is unlike any other poetry collection I’ve ever come across. Intermixed with the poems are letters purportedly from Wakoski to Carroll and a young protege named Craig–I say purportedly because I doubt that what we see are the same words that Wakoski actually might send these two–and quotes from Nick Herbert’s Quantum Reality: Beyond the New Physics. The combinations is appealing to a jaded, sound-bite audience, with its quick jumps from one style and tone to the next. We may not be sure what the hell Wakoski is trying to get at, but it is kind of fun to take the ride with her. And, every once and a while, the poetry truly shines, as in the self-effacing “My $15 Lily,” wherein Wakoski details a purchase mistake, or the personally-revealing “Men’s Eyes,” in which she starts with those famous eyes of movie stars, but somehow ends up with those eyes of her husband.

I picked up this volume because of the Carroll connection, but I plan to pick up the successor to this (a planned trilogy of volumes under the heading “The Archaeology of Movies and Books”) because Wakoski is interesting in her own right.

[Little Dipper · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wakoski plucks a plethora of characters in her newly fashioned mythological pomes.

[Wuds · Rating 4 out of 5]

4 1/2 stars.